


His Mother Finding Out

by thecutestprince



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecutestprince/pseuds/thecutestprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the sound of his voice, I stopped scrolling. My finger was no longer pressing the down button, because I was too mortified to focus on anything other than that voice.<br/>'Please, for the love of God, tell me that is not Marco Bodt. Anyone but Marco Bodt.'<br/>“Marco, I'm so glad you could make it!”<br/>God fucking shit. </p><p>(Jean is too old for babysitters, but his mother begs to differ. Though, she doesn't realize she ended up getting him a boyfriend, instead.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate titles include: Attack on my Heart; Don't go Breaking my Walls; Friction in my Jeans; Marco, Polo, I found your Heart; Tall Ti-Tan and Handsome.  
> All by Abby, who, of course, I fucking hate.

Every fucking time.

Every fucking time my mom decided to go out somewhere, I had to endure the sheer embarrassment of having a baby sitter. That's right. An eighteen year old, a _legal adult_ , couldn't stay alone at night while his mother was out, and thus, must have a babysitter.

And she constantly wondered why I didn't have any friends.

Well, I did have a couple of friends. And I tried to use one of them to avoid the situation.

“I could just stay at Eren's,” I pleaded. An image of Mikasa in a pair of boxer shorts and my over-sized shirt flashed in my head. “ _Please_ let me stay at Eren's.”

But mother was relentless. Strict, as always, on babysitters and make sure I was never left home alone at night, ever. “No, no,” she said as she walked across the living room. “You know I don't like you staying at other people's houses. Especially since I haven't met the boy's parents, though I'm sure they're _lovely_ people...”

“You can meet them right now!” I offered, sliding in front of her. She stopped in her tracks and gave me a smile that said, 'It's not gonna happen, dear.' But, fuck if I won't try to make it happen.

“We can just head over right now, and you can come down and chat with his parents.”

“No, I've gotta go...”

“Or, you know what, I'll call him! You can talk to his parents, right now, no proble-”

“Jean, I already said no,” she dismissed me firmly. As if to add to her point, and to further my disappointment and humiliation, the door bell rang, sending two small chimes across the house. “Look, your babysitter is already here.”

My shoulders hunched in defeat. I sighed and asked, “Is it Anna?”

“No, Anna's gone for the weekend. I asked someone else.”

_'God, who could it be this time?'_

The couch invited me into it's comforting arms. I had a feeling I'd be staying on that couch for a long time, if I didn't hide away in my room first. I started up Netflix and tried to seem stoic and cool and not lame. It was my mom who was lame, not me. I hoped whoever my babysitter was would understand that.

Whatever. Whoever they were, I'd just ignore them. Hide in my room, text Eren or Connie to sneak over, or something better than, well, this.

I heard the door open, followed by my mother's cheery greeting. I huffed out air from my nose and started scrolling through the movies and shows offered, trying desperately to appear preoccupied.

“Hello, Ms. Kirstein!”

At the sound of his voice, I stopped scrolling. My finger was no longer pressing the down button, because I was too mortified to focus on anything other than that voice.

 _'Please, for the love of God, tell me that is_ not _Marco Bodt. Anyone but Marco Bodt.'_

“Marco, I'm so glad you could make it!”

God fucking shit.

My entire world was spinning away from me, and I wanted to both run after it, and run away from this embarrassing situation. I honed in on whatever my mom could be saying, but it was all muffled out and distant. The only thing sharp and clear was Marco's words, Marco's voice.

Marco Bodt happened to be in my English class at the community college in town. He always sat in the same spot, two seats in front of me, and one to the right, and in turn, I always sat in the same spot, to not lose my view. At first, it was a funny coincidence. But then I caught myself staring at the back of his head everyday when the lectures got too boring for me. I cherished any opportunity I got to stare at the front of his head, at his face, but _now?_ Marco Bodt in my house was one thing, one miraculous thing, but Marco Bodt in my house because he was _babysitting_ me? That is an entirely different thing. 

As if I didn't think things could get even more humiliating.

“Anyways, I won't be gone for too long, but if it gets late, I'll make sure to call you.” Marco took a few steps inside as my mother shuffled past him and outside. She popped her head in one last time and sang out, “Bye dear! Love you!”

Marco turned his head to look at me and I quickly turned back to the TV. “Bye,” I grumbled just as my mother shut the door.

I didn't say 'love you' back. God forbid I embarrass myself any further.

An awkward, heavy silence settled on both of us. Maybe I should, I don't know, _play something._ With a weak hand, I grabbed the remote, almost dropped it, and started up some sitcom to bring noise into the living room.

Marco stood there stiffly for a few seconds, shifting his weight back-and-forth between each leg. His head would turn to the television screen, but I'd feel his gaze on me instead. My stomach hurt from worrying over when he would do me the favor of sitting down. Finally, I sighed and turned to him. He instantly averted his eyes.

“You can sit down,” I said, pointing at the spot next to me.

“Thanks,” Marco replied with a shy smile. He walked over to the couch, his foot steps light against the wooden floor. With his eyes locked on the screen, he slowly sat down, keeping an unfortunate amount of distance from me. Another heavy silence fell on us again, heavy enough to distract me from the show.

I mulled over it. I knew I should say _something_ , but I didn't know what would bring favorable results. Usually, I would ignore my sitters. But, I never had any desire to talk to them. They were always ladies my mom's age, and they always said the same boring things. How's college? My, you've grown up! Do you have a girlfriend? What are you studying? You're so, so handsome! You know, my husband...

This time, my sitter was a guy my age. This time, my sitter was someone I was interested in.

How fucking unfortunate.

Again, I worked up the courage to speak.

“Are you surprised?”

“H-Huh?!” Marco spat out, tensing up.

“Are you surprised? That you're 'babysitting' an eighteen year old.” I stressed the word babysitter, putting a sarcastic tone on it. Even so, it hurt my pride.

He stayed silent for a bit. Did he even recognize me from class? I wasn't sure whether it was better if he did or didn't. He gave me an awkward grin as he answered my question as easily as he could.

“A bit. I'm sort of used to babysitting, you know, six year olds.”

Ow. He stabbed me. Right in my pride. It'd really been taking a beating recently.

“Yeah,” I began, a laugh under my breath to show I wasn't wallowing in shame. “My mom is sort of... Yeah. She didn't tell you how old I was?”

“N-No, so I sort of just assumed... With the way she talks about you and all...” He trailed off and focused his attention on the television screen once more. His voice was so apologetic, he must have felt my humiliation radiating off of me.

We watched the entire episode in silence, though I wasn't really focused on it. I spent more of time scrambling in my head to figure out how to answer this one question:

What do I do?!

I'm gonna be one-hundred percent blunt here: I really wanted to hook up with him. He was really cute, and the fact that he seemed to be the one who cared the most about what unit we were learning in English class was very charming. There was this grand opportunity thrust upon me: he was in my house, we were alone, and with great power came great responsibility.

I'm not sure where I was going with that. But the point is that cute boy Marco was in my house, and I had no idea how to further the situation so that he was in my bed.

I don't know why, but I decided to text Eren.

> Me: _dude im stuck w a baby sitter again_
> 
> Eren: _ooooooh is she hot (;_

My eyes darted towards Marco. She, no. Hot, yes.

> Me: _sort of. yeah._
> 
> Eren: _sort of? why sort of?_  w _hats wrng with her?_
> 
> Me: _she is he_

My phone started vibrating at 100 mph, the buzzing against my jeans loud enough to startle both me and Marco. I snatched it off of my lap and quickly switched it to silent to stop it from vibrating so much.

I had about ten messages from Eren, one after the other. Jesus.

> Eren: _A GUY_
> 
> Eren: _YOU LIKE GUYS_
> 
> Eren: _UR GAY????????_
> 
> Eren: _haha ur just fucking w me_
> 
> Eren: _unless your not_
> 
> Eren: _JEAN ARE Y OU GAY_
> 
> Eren: _jean ur gay omg_
> 
> Eren: _ive told u so many times ur gay but I didnt kno I was RIGHT_
> 
> Eren: _bro I accept u for who u are im serious ok_
> 
> Eren: _if ur fucking w me I swear_

I should've known he was gonna be a complete moron about it. I sighed to myself and texted him back, resisting the urge to slap my forehead with my palm.

> Me: _i_ _m not gay_
> 
> Eren: _ahhHHH I knew it! yu were fucking w me hahaha_
> 
> Me: _im bi you fucking turd_
> 
> Eren: _wtf. wtf. wtf. wtf. ur gay?!?!!_
> 
> Me: _eren shut the fuck up I like guys and girls ive literally told you I want to bang your sister holy shit how dense are you_
> 
> Eren: _u_ _never said u wanted to bang my sister_
> 
> Me: _oh_
> 
> Me: _well im bi are we done with that so you can help me score this guy_
> 
> Eren: _ok yeah Im done. ok. ok. who is it?_

I glanced at Marco once again, and a slight nervous feeling settled over me. Texting about him while he was sitting on the same couch as me was weird, because it felt like he could sense that I was typing out his name. He could lean towards me and read my texts and it would be all over. Well, of course he wouldn't do that. I had a feeling he'd be staying on his side of the couch, for now.

> Me: _marco bodt_
> 
> Eren: _hey I know that guy! but I dont know what he likes or anything so srry dude_
> 
> Me: _its fine i just need to get this awkward feeling out of the way_
> 
> Eren: _break into your moms booze stash_
> 
> Me: _HA my mom doesnt have a booze stash_
> 
> Eren: _r u sure_
> 
> Eren:  _R U_
> 
> Eren:  _R U SURE_

No. She wouldn't have alcohol in the house. Of course not.

Would she?

“Excuse me for a second,” I mumbled as I got up from my seat. It felt weird to get up without saying anything.

“Do you want me to pause the episode?”

“No, it's fine,” I added over my shoulder. I made my way upstairs and at the end of the hallway was the master bedroom. My mom's room. I hardly ever went in there, because I had never needed to, so opening the door to her room made me feel odd and suspicious. Well, I _was_  going to snoop around, so I was right to have those feelings. Turning on the light presented me a nicer view of her clean, completely spotless, recently vacuumed room. On top of the neatly made bed was a half-knitted gray and black scarf, probably soon to be mine. I don't know how many scarves and sweaters I had stuffed in the back of my closet, but fifty was a good rough estimate.

I snooped around her neat room, being very careful to put everything back in it's ordered manner. As I was cautiously rifling through the clothes of her many drawers, a small thought of accidentally finding something _other_ than alcohol sent disgusted shivers down my spine. For a second, I was discouraged by the thought, but the adventure must go on. I moved away from the dresser and walked towards the closet. Upon opening it, my eyes instantly dropped down to a small cabinet sitting under the shirts and dresses dangling above it. Piled on top of it were hundreds of boxes, shoes, and purses, making it seem as insignificant as the items discarded around it. But my eyes caught the metallic shine of a lock.

What could one possibly keep behind a locked cabinet?

_'Score.'_

> Me: _I think I found my moms booze_
> 
> Eren: _INVITE ME OVER_
> 
> _Me: nah_

I put my phone back in my pocket. Okay, booze stash, check. But the treasure was locked in the chest. To get to the chest, we must search for the key. Where would my mom have kept the key?

Ah, of course. Detective pirate Jean, sir, you are a genius.

I make my way downstairs again. Marco was still very much interested in whatever mediocre sitcom I'd put on, and let out a small giggle to go with the laugh track. I bit my lip at the cute laughter and walked across the living room, and to the dining room.

Most people like to show case fine china, or something like that, in their dining rooms. My mom likes to show case a bunch of books she doesn't ever read, and these thick hard backs hid slender cookbooks she loved to buy at thrift shops. I can't complain, though. Mom was a great cook, and maybe those books deserved some thanks. There were six rows of books, and each row was tightly crammed with paperbacks and hardbacks, though all but the cookbooks have remained untouched since the day they were bought.

Ugh, it would take forever to check each book. Mom was a bit shorter than me, so I grabbed one of the books from the fourth row and started there.

Ten books later, I'd found it. I held the book with one hand and flipped through the pages quickly with the other. Since the book was titled downwards, the small, grey key slid out and fell to the floor, making a clanging noise loud enough for Marco to look my way.

“What're you doing?” he asked, curious. It's a good thing it was an innocent question, rather than an accusation from my babysitter.

I put the book back in it's place, then picked the key up from the ground. I held it in front of my face, dangling it between my index and thumb.

“You'll see.” I smirked. Marco hadn't a clue what I meant, but it definitely piqued his interest.

I actually wasn't sure if Marco drank, or was totally against alcohol. What if his nerd- I mean, academically inclined attitude stayed with him beyond English class. I don't know. I just had to wait and find out.

Marco's eyes followed me as I walked across the living room, but when I turned the corner and walked up the stairs, I was free to let my smirk fall away into a goofy grin. Back in my mom's room, I opened the treasure chest and revealed the hidden treasure. Safely tucked inside were different colored bottles of wine and vodka and whiskey. Most of them were wines, because my mother likes to be classy. But they were cheap wines, anyways. She had a lot of pink wines, so I assumed she wouldn't notice if a bottle went missing. I'd like to think we'd be careful enough to just drink a tiny bit of it but... precautions, for obvious reasons.

I locked the cabinet, made sure the room looked as it did before I came, and closed the door. I slowly made my way downstairs, the key in my pocket, the bottle of wine in hand. In my head, I was wearing a suit and tie, though my tie was loosened and one button of my shirt was loose. An invitation, shown through my sexy clothing choice.

In reality, I was just wearing an old graphic tee and some worn out jeans. But the wine made me look more appealing, hopefully.

Halfway down the stairs, I remembered my phone. Right, I hadn't texted Eren back.

> Eren: _im telling ur mom :O_
> 
> Eren: _jeannnnn_
> 
> Eren: _JEAN_
> 
> Eren: _jean pls give me alcohol_
> 
> Me: _ive located the wine to woe marco bodt_
> 
> Eren: _what kind_
> 
> Me: _idk. moscato? its pink_
> 
> Eren: _who are u gonna impress w cheap wine. U gotta get the big guns. Like whiskey or smthn._
> 
> Me: _shut up everyone likes any kind of alcohol when theyre 18_
> 
> Eren: _yeah ur right I rlly want that girly shit right now_
> 
> Me: _too bad_

Okay, where was I? Ah yes, the grand entrance.

Before entering the living room, I hid the bottle behind my back. I took a few slow steps and cleared my throat to catch Marco's attention.

“Do you want to order something to eat?” I asked. Jeez, Marco was startled anything. His shoulders jumped up at my voice, and he paused the video before speaking to me.

“Uh, like what?”

“I don't know,” I said, voice full of innocence. “Maybe... something to go with this?” I revealed the bottle of wine from behind my back. Marco stares at it for a good second before his eyes go wide.

“Where did you get that?”

“My mom's closet.”

“Jean,” Marco hissed. He leaned towards me, as if my mother were in the other room and she would hear us. “Put it back!”

“Nah. If you don't want to drink some, that's fine. But I'm drinking some.”

He looked lost. He was probably unsure of what initiative to take. On one hand, he _was_ my babysitter, and babysitters make sure these sort of things don't happen. But on the other hand, he was a guy my age who didn't really want to be here, and the wine would make the night a bit more bearable.

His face twisted. “I don't want to get in trouble.

It would only take a bit of convincing. “It's fine! She won't even notice, I promise. I'll make sure you get paid by the end of this.”

Marco sat back and sighed. “Fine. What do you want eat?”

“Pizza.”

“...Pizza and wine.”

“Romantic, right?”

He snorted, taking out his cellphone. “Very. I'll order a pizza. Don't open that or you'll spoil your appetite.” He didn't say it as my sitter. I could tell that was part of his character showing itself.

I laughed and went to go set the bottle of wine on he counter. We were still in the stage of awkward-babysitter-mishap. But hopefully, we'd ignore the circumstances and end up just hanging out.

And then, hooking up.

 

> Eren: _are you drunk yet_
> 
> Me: _no we're waiting for pizza_
> 
> Eren: _PIZZA AND WINE_
> 
> Eren: _wtf_
> 
> Eren: _why dont you want to be my friend anymore :( friends give each other pizza and alcoholic beverages_
> 
> Me: _eren shut up_

The doorbell rang, and it seemed both Marco and I felt obligated to answer. We exchanged awkward glances.

“I got it-”

“I'll get the-”

Our voices fumbled with each other as we talked at the same time, then we stopped. Marco let out a small, tense laugh and motioned towards the door.

“It's fine. Your mom gave me money for food, so I'll have to pay for it in the end.”

“I guess so,” I grumbled, sitting back down.

Marco nodded and went to open the door. A booming voice entered the house, talking above the television.

“Heyyy Marco! What're you doing here?”

Sasha Braus.

Why is Sasha here?! She delivers pizza?!

I looked over and could only see Marco smiling at her. I could see it in his face that her loud nature sort of unsettled him, but he was such a nice guy that instead of groaning in annoyance like I would, he just kept smiling sweetly. What a kind kid.

But if he was so kind, he would not humiliate me. In my head, I pleaded to him. Do not say you are babysitting. Do not say you are my babysitter. For the love god, say you're a tutor or something, but _do not_ say you are babysitting me.

He spoke and I unknowingly held my breath. “Nothing, I'm just...” He paused and sent a glance my way. Sasha peeked her head in and waved furiously at me. I gave her a wave with only one-tenth of her vigor. “Just hanging out with Jean.”

God bless Marco Bodt. You are more perfect than I could ever have imagined. If I were to suck your dick, it would be but an honor.

“I didn't know you were friends with Jeans!” Sasha, stop saying things.

“Yeah, uh, we just met,” he replied, handing over some money.

“Nice, nice. Anyways, I gotta go. Here's your pizza. Bye, Jean!” She popped her head in one last time as she gave Marco the pizzas. She did a weird thing with her face, her grin widening.

“Bye,” I said. I gave her one last half-hearted wave, but my eyes were mostly on Marco. He gave Sasha a quick goodbye before closing the door and sighing. I knew it. Sasha was just a bit too much for him. 'How does Connie hang out with that girl everyday?' was the thing we were probably both wondering at the time.

“Alright,” Marco said, his voice showing a bit of relief. “Food's here.”

“I see.” As I got to my feet, a genius idea struck me. More things to soften the mood. “Hey, let's eat outside."

Marco blinked at me. “Oh, sure. Sounds nice.”

I lead Marco to my backyard, grabbing the wine and two cups on the way out. The second I opened the door, barking erupted and Marco squeaked behind me.

“You have a dog?!” he whispered.

“Yeah. Titan!” I called out to him, gave a quick whistle. From the bushes at the far end of the backyard came the sounds of shaking leaves and cracking branches. The bushes shook furiously, and I could feel Marco about to piss himself behind me. After a few moments of shaking, a tiny, brown and white french bull dog emerged from the bushes, leaping and hopping and scrambling excitedly towards us. I could hear Marco's soft “aww”'s behind me and grinned as Titan tripped over his tiny, pudgy feet to get to us.

“This,” I motioned towards the small pup jumping at my feet, “is Titan.” Titan noticed the fresh blood hiding behind me and barked excitedly at Marco.

“Hi Titan,” Marco cooed. His actions were restricted because of the pizza boxes in his arms, and he was a little hesitant about the lively puppy, but it was clear he took a liking to Titan.

“We can eat on the trampoline,” I suggested. The lonely trampoline awaited us. I'd torn down the safety net around it ages ago, because I'm a grown ass man who didn't need a stupid net.

_'But you still need a babysitter.'_

I scowled at my own thought. No I don't. Shut up.

“Oh wow,” Marco mused. “I haven't been in a trampoline in ages!”

“Me neither.”

“What? But you-”

“I know,” I cut him off. We made our way to the trampoline, being careful with the pizza and the wine. Titan whined at us from the outside of the trampoline when we'd situated ourselves, but after I throw a few slices of pepperoni, he's content.

Marco was sitting across from me, legs crossed and hands folded. He was waiting for me to dig in first. Well, first came the drinks. I served Marco some wine in one of the plastic cups. It's only when I hand it to him that I realize it's covered in a vintage flowery pattern.

“This is _really_ classy,” Marco said, raising his cup. “Five dollar pizza and pink wine in a flowery cup. I haven't been on a date like this since ever.”

I am smooth about ignoring the fact that he called our little hang out a 'date'. I laugh, but my laugh does not waver. It is cool and casual, like me. I am cool and casual. I tell myself this repeatedly, to at least half-convince myself.

“We can go back inside and drink in fancy glass cups later, to end this date on a good note.” I serve myself a cup of wine and set the bottle down behind me and against my back. I didn't think the bottle would break if it fell on the grass, but I'd rather it resting against me than near Titan. I opened the box between Marco and I, the sweet smell of sauce and melting cheese smacked me right in the face. I took a huge bite and washed it down with some wine, and I noticed Marco hadn't even taken a sip of his wine.

“What percentage is it?” he asked, nervous.

“I don't know, like ten? Look, when I said you didn't have to drink it, I was serious. You don't have to, if you don't want to.” The last thing I wanted was to scare the guy.

“No, I _want_ to,” he admitted, looking down at his cup. “But I know I'm not _supposed_ to be drinking this, like, legally, and it makes me nervous, I guess. But I do want to.”

Marco was too precious for this world. I was ruining him. I should not have been tainting him with my bad boy attitude.

“It's _fine._ This shit isn't enough to get you drunk,” I said. Smirking, I held up my cup. “Let's just toast.”

He smiles at my attempt to lighten the mood. “A toast to what?”

I pursed my lips and looked up at the dark sky above us. A few stars were noticeable, but most were blocked out by the light of the streetlights and houses.

There are two ways I could have answered the question. I could have answered with something stupid, and toast to our soccer team's recent win (or was it football... baseball? Whatever). I could have definitely done that.

But I decided to be obvious. At least a bit.

Somewhat obvious.

“A toast,” I began, putting on a fake voice, “to meeting Marco Bodt, who bought me pizza and didn't humiliate me like he could have.”

Marco laughed, but didn't 'clink' our 'glasses'. He had a toast to make, too. “And a toast, to meeting Jean Kirstein, who makes horrible decisions that turn out to be great ones.”

I smiled at him as he touched my cup with his and took a quick gulp. When he lowered his cup, he looked at me with a bit of a surprised look.

“It's good.”

“That's surprising?”

“Yeah. I donn't know, I thought it would be gross. I feel like most alcoholic things are gross."

“Sometimes,” I said, getting back to my pizza. A thought struck me. I could not imagine Marco drunk. I could not imagine him at a party, generic red plastic cup in hand, steps wobbly and voice slurred. At least, not with what he was wearing. Tucked in button up and neatly parted hair shouted books and studying, not beer and partying.

“Have you never gotten drunk before?” It was kind of obvious, but I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted to see him get flustered over it.

And flustered he was. He shook his head. “No. You are the first to ruin me with _alcohol._ ”

“Well, once you stop being so uptight around cheap wine, maybe I can take you to a party with...” I leaned in closer to him and whispered, “... _beer.”_

He gasped, suppressing a giggle. “No, Jean, anything but shitty beer!”

Was that his first curse word? Well, of the night, anyways. ' _Or maybe even ever,_ ' I thought to myself. Maybe the ten percent alcohol was loosening him up.

“You've never played beer pong, even with soda?”

“No, what's that?”

“Oh my god, Marco, you tiny, tiny child.”

I explained beer pong to him, and I could tell the idea enticed him. He mentioned he'd probably be a terrible teammate, but I offered to drink all the beer if we ever teamed up. He laughed and agreed to the suggestion, then asked me if vodka was good.

Beautiful, precious baby boy.

There was half a box of pizza left over, but that could be saved for tomorrow morning. I got out of the trampoline to throw one box out and put away the other, and Titan emerged from the bushes to follow me eagerly. I quickly threw him a slice of pepperoni when Marco called out to me.

“Je-an!” he sang out. “Bring Titan on the trampoline!”

“Okay!” I called out, scooping Titan into my arms. The pup wriggled excited, and I stretched my neck out as he reached to lick and nibble at my chin. When he couldn't reach my chin, he got enough enjoyment from just nipping at my shirt. I set him down on the trampoline and he ran over to Marco, jumping straight into his opened arms. He laughed as Titan slobbered up his chin, and I smiled to myself as I climbed onto the trampoline.

“Ow!”

I looked up to see Marco pressing his hand against his right eye.

“Ah shit, did he get you in the eye?”

“N-No, just under it.”

“Titan, bad boy,” I scolded him, though he already knew he'd done wrong. He seemed sorry enough; as a way to apologize, he cuddled in between Marco's crossed legs, pressing his face against his stomach. That made me a bit nervous, because Titan bit my crotch once after doing that. All seemed well, though. Marco smiled and pet the top of his head, rubbing behind his ears with his thumb.

“Lemme see,” I said, crawling towards him. I removed his hand with my own, and saw he was squinting a bit, his eye a little watery. It wasn't bleeding or anything, so he as probably fine. Just a small mark.

“It'll probably just be sore for a while.”

“Yeah,” Marco agreed in a whisper, and his eyes darted down to the hand I was still holding.

“Sorry,” I said, quickly letting go. I'd like to say I held his hand a for a little while longer purposely, but I actually had even forgotten I was holding it. I don't like to admit when my cheeks are flushed, but...

“No,” he replied, smiling at me with his squinting eyes. “You hands were warm.”

We sat there in silence, and with a now warmer face, I indulged in those words and the quiet sounds of the night, our breathing, and Titan's panting. I felt the need to down some wine, but I wasn't sure where my cup was at.

“You don't mind if I just drink out of the bottle, right?”

“No, go ahead.” With that permission given, I twisted it open and took a quick gulp, then closed it and fell back onto the trampoline with a sigh, the wine bottle resting at my side. I could hear Titan struggling to get out of Marco's lap, then he scampered over my way and started licking my face.

“Eugh, Titan, no,” I grumbled, grabbing the little ball of fat and setting him down on my stomach. He sure was rowdy. But with a few quick pets, he settled down and curled up into a small ball, panting happily.

It wasn't long before Marco was scooting closer to me. The tips of his toes poked at my side and he quickly apologized, but I told him it was fine and he remained as he was. He'd only moved forward to pet Titan, but he could have also stayed where he was, so I accepted what I got.

Suddenly, in a dazed voice, Marco asked, “Jean, do you have a tattoo?” I looked over at him, and his eyes were looking at my right arm. The sleeve of my shirt had hid the two thick, solid lines, but right now, because of the way my arms were crossed behind my head, a bit of the tattoo was peaking out.

“Oh, yeah,” I responded casually, spreading out my arm in front of me and rolling up the sleeve. I revealed my armband and flexed my bicep for good measure. “Just an armband.”

But to Maro, it wasn't _just_ an armband. He was so enticed by it, I was almost squirming under his gaze. “Did it hurt?” he asked in amazement.

Yes, it hurt like a bitch, actually.

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“When'd you get it?”

“The day after I turned eighteen. I knew my mom was gonna want to take me out to dinner the day of my birthday, so me and my friends decided on the day after my birthday.” Eren had gotten an arm band as well, but only one because it'd hurt too much.

“And your mom's okay with it?”

I chuckled. “No. I kept it hidden for, like, a good month before she found me out. She was so angry, but she was mostly devastated. You don't know how many toilets I had to scrub so she could get over it, partially.”

He laughed, but his eyes were still locked on the black bands, even after I'd put my arms back behind my head. “That's so cool,” he whispered. “Got any more?”

“No, but I'm thinking of getting something else.”

“Ooh, like what?”

I traced a line from my left eyebrow to the bottom of my chin. “A snake from here to here.”

Marco blinked at me, incredulous. He _actually_ believed me.

“Marco, I'm kidding.”

“Oh,” he said, then broke out laughing.

“Do you want a tattoo?”

“Oh, no!” he responded after sipping at his wine. Surprisingly, he hadn't choked on the wine from how caught off-guard he was by the question. “I don't think I could. But I really appreciate how ink looks on people's skin.”

“I'm flattered,” I said with a charming smile. And I think he blushed.

This was all going along so very swimmingly.

“Why don't you lie down?” I asked him.

“Oh, s-sure.” He quickly finished the rest of his wine and set his cup on the grass, allowing me a few quick glances as he bent over the side of the trampoline. Surprisingly enough, he lay down next to me, the only thing keeping our sides from touching was the wine bottle between us. A comfortable silence settled upon us as we stared at the stars. I assumed he was looking at me from the corner of his eyes, because _I_ was, and I didn't want it to be an unrequited thing.

I let my hand drop from resting on top of Titan, and the back of my fingers bumped against the back of Marco's cold ones. Startled, he pulled his hand away, so I casually hooked my thumb in my belt loop.

“So,” I began, turning my head to face him. He turned his head, as well, and our faces were _so close_. “You've never seen me around? I go to Trost County Community College.”

The question caught him off guard, and the quick flash in his eyes gave me my answer. Of _course_ he recognized the name. A smile made its way to my lip, but I quickly put on an innocent face, a curious look, waiting for his response.

Marco looked away and faced the few stars once more. He sighed, and I watched the way his chest and the hand resting on it moved up and down with each breath. “I... I actually do know you from somewhere, but I didn't know I'd be babysitting you! I didn't even know your name, this just... ended up being a funny coincidence.”

“Funny,” I echoed.

“Yeah, funny,” he mumbled, gulping audibly. Now the hand resting on his chest was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “We go to the same college. We share a class together, and, I don't know... One day you walked in, and you were laughing at some snarky remark your friend threw at you from the hallway, and I looked up and you were _laughing_ , and-”

Holy shit.

Was this really happening?

I couldn't believe it.

Marco Bodt...

Marco Bodt was confessing to me.

_HOLY SHIT._

Marco noticed my stunned silence and looked my way. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make things weird! And I thought we had just gotten done being weird...” His apology was fumbled up and stammered, and he sat up, ready to retreat.

“N-No!” I reached for his arm before he could crawl away from me. He stiffened under my grip. Titan stood from my stomach and found another place to curl up and nap, one that wasn't leaning forward and shouting so much. “Lie down again. It's fine, really.” I tried to sound sincere, to match how scared I was of him leaving the trampoline.

A bit of hesitation, but he was back by my side, nervously waiting for my next words.

“I knew who you were the second I heard your voice,” I admitted. Marco turned to glare at me, but he couldn't look at me for more than three seconds. He was back at looking at the sky again. “I wanted to die, actually, because Marco Bodt was going to babysit me, an eighteen year old, and how embarrassing is that?”

He chuckled. “It's pretty embarrassing.”

“Thanks,” I sarcastically replied, but you could hear the smile in my voice. I turned to look at him, but he was still afraid to look at anything else other than the night sky.

The moon light, no, the somehow romantic glow of the streetlights lit up his face, though only barely. Most of his face was hidden in darkness, but I could see just enough, make out his features with a bit of searching. His nervously furrowed brows, his short eyelashes, the way they curled up just so, danced when he blinked. I could barely make out the freckles on his skin, but I knew they were there, because I'd been thinking about them since the day in class when I noticed them on the back of his neck and wondered if he had them along his arms, shoulders, further under his shirt. I looked at his short, hazelnut hair, long enough to tempt the thought of running my fingers through it. My eyes traced the outline of his face, from his forehead, to the climb up his small nose, and then the curve of his lips, his chin, his neck.

This started out as something really stupid. Something that I wasn't even _half_ expecting to accomplish. I'd been thinking about sex, but now, I was thinking beyond that, before that.

I mean, I was still thinking about sex. But mostly, I thought about how much I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss that small nose of his.

“Marco.” My voice came out low, husky, almost a whisper. It caught his attention, but he wouldn't turn his head. I wanted him to turn his head, so badly. I wanted our faces to be close again.

I wanted to be closer.

I gently rolled onto my side and reached for his chin. It only took one finger to turn his head my way, then he was rolling onto his side, as well. The sound of my belt buckle clanking against the wine bottle interrupted me for just a second, but only to grab it and place it behind me, where it wouldn't disturb us. But then I was back to focusing on my hand now resting on Marco's cheek, and Marco's light brown eyes looking at me expectantly.

I ignored my need to puke, and the buzzing in my head that still could not believe what was happening.

My lips were soft against his. As much as I wanted to press my lips against him harder, I didn't want to scare him. I moved my hand to the back of his head, finally indulging my fingers in the feel of his hair. He pulled away for a second, and I was ready to pull away from him, but then his hand gripped at my shirt and pulled me in to close the distance between us. That one action sent a pleasurable shiver down my spine, and when his leg was hooking against mine, that sent another pleasurable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sighed against his lips, brushing my tongue against his, and he gasped lowly in response.

I don't know when he decided to pull away, but he did, and I heard him laugh nervously. I opened my eyes, blinked at him, and he was hiding himself behind his hand.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, revealing his squinting eyes and hiding his grin. “I didn't think...”

“I know, I just...”

“This is...”

We didn't finish our sentences. There wasn't really much we knew to say, not after what had just happened.

And so we picked up where we left off.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**-Marco**_

 

I snorted.

His lips were still on mine, gentle, cautious, and everything about the way he moved was sweet. He would place his hand on my waist, thumb and finger feeling the material of my button-up shirt. His hands could go further up, further down, and I could tell he wanted them to. In just those two fingers, it was evident that he wanted to search farther than the one square inch of clothing he was restricting himself to. But he remained restrained, focusing on my mouth on his.

It was perfect. How soft everything was, not just his lips, but his movements and even the lighting. All so perfect, and, of course, I ruined it.

By laughing right in the middle of a perfectly good kiss.

Jean pulled away from me with a half-confused, half-offended look. I swear, I tried to stop laughing. I really did, but I was too nervous to stop the laugh attack overtaking me.

“What?” Jean asked. He wasn’t even pissed at me, well, not entirely. But he was hurt, at least a bit. I caught it in his voice, and the second I heard it, I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, my voice a low whisper. Any louder and he would have heard the laugh still in my throat. “I’m so, so, soooo sorry! I’m just…” I trailed off, meeting my eyes with Jean’s. The intense look he was giving me- it was like, kissing me wasn’t enough. There were intentions hidden behind his eyes, and I could see them as we stared at each other-

I snorted. Again.

“Marco!” Jean shouted. His voice was whiney, and I wanted to laugh even _more_ , but I held it back. I took deep breaths, hid my mouth, and finally looked at Jean again.

“I’m nervous,” I finally admitted. “I’m nervous because, not even in my wildest scenarios had I ever imagined us together, kissing like this, on your _trampoline_. I’m nervous because I really like you.”

The truth seemed to make him really happy, because he was grinning like an idiot, and then I was grinning like an idiot, and we were a pair of idiots grinning madly on a trampoline.

Our grinning was cut short.

Jean was the one to stop smiling first. He was straining to hear something, and so my smile faded away as I tried to listen for what he was trying to pick up. I stared past him, at his house, as I waited. I couldn’t hear anything but our breathing.

Light peeked through the small, rectangular windows of the garage. Then, the muffled sound of a car entering the garage.

Jean’s mom was home.

“Shit,” Jean whispered just as Titan broke out into an excited, barking frenzy.

For a while, I wasn’t even sure _why_ my stomach was twisting and _why_ I felt like running away. Sure, we’d been kissing, but it wasn’t like she’d seen us! Of course not!

And then I saw the pink bottle in Jean’s hands. I froze.

_The wine!_

“Where do I put it?” Jean hissed. His eyes were bulging at me, wide and frantic. Why was he looking at me for a solution?! My eyes went to the bottle, at him, to the garage. Back at him, to the wine, the garage, at him.

“Fuck!”

I grabbed the bottle and flung it. Neither of us had any idea what to do, and Jean’s mom was right behind us in the garage, and who knew if she could see us. It was the one thing to come to mind, and there was, at that point, absolutely no alternative, so I snatched it from Jean’s hands and I threw it. I threw it above the brick wall separating the neighbor’s backyard from Jean’s.

We were both frozen in place again. We were stock still, possibly holding our breaths again.

I caught the soft thud of the glass bottle hitting against the grass.

Jean turned to look at me.

“Marco!”

“I’m sorry!” I squeaked. “I panicked okay?”

“So did I, but I didn’t chuck the damn thing to the neighbor’s backyard!”

“It’s _wine!_ ” He hushed me as soon as the words left me. I wanted to tell him that I really meant to say ‘It’s _fine_ ,’ but I stayed quiet and bit my lip instead.

His mother was going to scream at us any second. She’d seen the bottle, seen me chuck it across the fence, and she was livid. She would scream at us and chase me from her home, and I’d have to run away while dodging frying pans being flung at me, and she would shout at me that I was forbidden to see Jean.

The back door squeaked open.

“Boys?” she called out to us, and we both stiffened. Titan was still barking, circling the trampoline and whining because he wanted to get off. Jean let him down and we watched him scamper over to Jean's mother

“We’re back here, mom!” His voice wavered a bit, which surprised me. I thought that Jean was good at getting away with things. Jean was the guy who’d stolen wine from his mother’s liquor cabinet (wine that was in the neighbor’s backyard). He’d kept a tattoo from her for a month. Had his voice wavered when he excused the soreness of his arm, saying he’d worked it too hard while he exercised?

I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t the time, but I was flattered that my presence, my kiss, was making him nervous.

It definitely wasn’t the time.

Jean’s mom didn’t come any closer. She stayed next to the back door, beaming at us with Titan snuggled securely in her arms.

“Did you boys eat?”

“Yep, we had pizza!” he answered, getting to his knees. “Let’s go,” he mumbled. He sounded as disappointed as I was that our night was being cut short.

Tension wavered in the air between us as we pulled on our shoes. Who knew so much sexual tension could come from someone slipping their feet into their battered up Vans.

I wanted to touch him. Squeeze his hand to let him know how badly I wanted his mom to suddenly have another event to go to. But even tousling his hair felt like something far away. My mentality had to shift. I had to go back to thinking like his baby sitter.

Eww.

We marched back to his mother, a noticeable distance between us. I gave his mother a smile, one that always seemed to have adults and teachers tripping over themselves for. I got an equally cheerful grin and accepted it as a sign that I was safe. We were safe.

“Was he of any trouble?”

“Mom…” He was both whining, and warning.

“Of course not,” I laughed. “Everything went fine.”

She seemed content, pursing her lips as she shuffled through her burgundy bag. “Well, thank you so much for doing this on such a late notice!”

She handed me two twenties.

Forty dollars.

I wasn’t even sure if it’d been more than four hours, and she gave me _forty dollars_.

I tried not to seem phased as I casually shoved the bills into my back pocket. But those bills felt heavy. Heavy with the reminder that I’d gotten paid to make out with her son.

I was going to cry. I swear, I was.

“If you ever need anything, just let know! I’d love to, uh, babysit for you again.”

_‘How could you say that? You’re scum. You just want to kiss him again. And get_ paid _to do it!’_

“I may take you up on that offer!” she said, all smiles, ignoring my obvious inner turmoil. Her attention shifted to Jean. Her eyebrows lifted expectantly.

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed, dear.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna walk Marco to his car.” Now, her brows twitched in surprise. I felt my face flush. “If that’s alright.”

“It’s fine,” both me and Jean’s mom said, and I was overcome with a desire to fall right through the earth on which I stood.

“I’ll be inside soon,” Jean reassured her, then started walking towards the left, to the side of the house. I followed obediently. Every step I took, I felt like his mom was watching me.

I’d been staring down at my feet when I crashed into Jean’s back. I gasped in surprise, but he hushed me, preventing the apology in my mouth from coming out.

Silence, only broken by chirping crickets, fell over us, and I stared at the back of Jean’s head as I waited for him to explain what we were waiting for.

“Okay,” he finally sighed, turning towards me.

“Okay, what?” I asked.

He grabbed my face and kissed me, a kiss that felt quick but long at the same time. I took a few surprised steps backwards, but then I was kissing him back, moving as he did. It felt like hours since our last kiss, but in reality, it had probably only been ten minutes. The atmosphere between us changed. His mother could peep her head through the side of the house and see us. There was only so much space between us and the house, us and the neighbor’s brick fence. We were secluded, a secret, rushing to make something that would last the rest of the night in only a quick minute. All of this made my fingers and sweaty palms take in more of the warmth from the skin on the back Jean’s neck.

He pulled away from me, leaning his forehead against mine. You could tell he didn’t want to stop what was happening; his eyes were shut tight and he was trying really hard to hide how out of breath he felt. I hadn’t even noticed how audible my breathing was.

“That was okay.”

Jean’s eyes snapped open, immediately out of whatever trance he’d been in. He pulled away from my forehead and gave me an angry look. “What?”

“No! Like, I was referring to what I said before! Haha, like, I asked what was okay, and then you kissed me, and so I’m just saying that I know what you mean, you know? I am _not_ saying that our kiss was okay, not to say it wasn’t. It was _more_ than okay! You know what, I realize that what I said didn’t even make sense, so let’s just put this whole little thing behind us and just…”

Jean laughed, reaching forward to tousle my hair. My face was _on fire._ I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take any more abuse, whether it be me making everything awkward, or Jean with his cute gestures.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He led me to my car, and how he was able to walk so casually without tripping over himself was beyond me. I was highly preoccupied in making sure my knees didn’t give out on me with each step I took.

I half expected Jean to kiss me before I got in the car, but I knew that wasn’t an option. I held on to the kiss he'd stolen back there to keep me sane.

“Bye,” he said from the sidewalk. And, “Bye” I said as I dipped my head into the car.

He didn’t move away when I slammed the door shut. He didn’t head to his house when I started up the car.

The forty bucks suddenly felt heavy in my pocket.

I let out a frustrated groan, trying to work up the nerve to ask Jean out. It should’ve been an easy thing, because we’d already went straight to kissing, and why was a date harder than kissing? But, shit, I was asking Jean out, I was rolling down the window and leaning towards it so I could ask Jean out. Jean was crouching down to look at me, and I saw his expectant look. I wasn’t sure if he was aware that sometimes he looked like a little puppy, but he did then, and it made the next few words tighter in my throat.

“Do you wanna go out next week? Like, to a movie?”

He grinned widely, but then he immediately toned it down a notch. He didn’t want to seem too excited, but it was painfully obvious to me. The fact that he was trying to hide it made me a bit happy, though.

“Sure.”

“Okay,” I laughed, and I was about to roll up the window when I thought of something else. “Give me your phone.”

I had successfully asked Jean out on a date. And now, I was asking for his number.

As if tonight hadn’t been surreal enough.

Jean slipped his arm through the open window and offered me his phone. I gladly took it, making sure my fingers touched his hand in the process. I grinned to myself as I punched in my number.

Now, Jean had a Marco in his contacts. I wanted to be a dork and put a smiley face next to my name, but I suppressed the urge, just as Jean was suppressing his own dorky smiling.

I handed him his phone back, and his fingers purposely brushed against mine. We exchanged knowing glances, and I said my final goodbyes as I rolled up the passenger side’s window.

My car was silent the ride home. I hadn’t thought to put the radio on. I was busy fumbling my focus between the lonely neighborhood roads in front of me, and the way my skin felt when I remembered Jean’s lips or Jean’s fingers had been there earlier. My mind wandered to seconds before Jean had kissed me, the way he had looked when he was desperately pleading for me to look at him. It was irresistible, the way he’d looked at me, and it made my stomach drop and my face flush just remembering it.

I bit my lip and gripped the steering wheel. I forced myself to stop thinking about Jean, and worry about getting home. The night was still young.

I had _a lot of time_ to think about the events of that night.

 

* * *

 

**_-Jean_ **

 

> Me: _sorry_
> 
> Me: _I was busy ;)_
> 
> Eren: _lmao okkkk_
> 
> Me: _no… really… I think me and marco are almost a thing_
> 
> Eren: _NO WAY_
> 
> Eren: _the day I barely find out ur gay and u get a boyfriend_
> 
> Me: _bi_
> 
> Me: _yeah I know, it turns out he likes me too_
> 
> Eren: _dude DUDE good for you (((:_
> 
> Me: _shut up_

It was weird talking to Eren about it. Fuck, it was weird just _talking_ about it, regardless of who was listening. But Eren, of all people. He was an immature little turd, and I had despised him for the better part of a year before I finally started warming up to him. But… I guess he was a good friend.

Well, it was either him or Connie. And, well, Connie…

> Me: _we’re going to the movies next week_
> 
> Eren: _0:_
> 
> Me: _:0_
> 
> Eren: _8=D_
> 
> Me: _no_
> 
> Me: _but yeah he asked me out_
> 
> Eren: _holy shit_
> 
> Me: _I could hardly believe he kissed me and then he asked me out and gave me his number_
> 
> Eren: _uh why r u textin me when u have MARCOS NUMBER!_
> 
> Me: _shut up im waiting until he’s probably not driving_
> 
> Eren: _HE HAS A CAR_
> 
> Eren: _holy shit he sounds perfect no homo_
> 
> Me: _literally I hate you_
> 
> Eren: _(:_
> 
> Me: _anyways I have shit to do_
> 
> Eren: _gonna jack off to the sweet thought of innocent marco?_
> 
> Me: _fuck off right now_
> 
> Eren: _haha no really whatre u doing its like almost 1_
> 
> Me: _im cleaning up evidence_

By evidence, I meant the wine bottle Marco had thrown into the neighbor’s backyard, as well as the cup he’d used to drink the wine. If my mom or the neighbors got ahold of either of those, I was possibly very much screwed. I had purposely waited until 1 am so I knew for sure my mom would be asleep. I couldn’t go downstairs, though. The hallway’s floor always seemed to crack under my feet _only_ at this hour, and each step I took down the stairs thudded audibly. It would be really easy to wake my mom before I even got to the bottom of the stairs.

My only option was the window. I slowly slid the window up and stepped out, feet first, onto the roof. The roof was slanted downwards, but standing up wasn’t much of an issue. From where I stood, I could see into the neighbor’s backyards. There, lying in the middle of the grass, was the wine bottle. I saw a lack of pets, and all the lights were off.

I took cautious steps to the left corner of the roof, more importantly, towards a large tree. Standing where I was, the tree’s leaves reached a bit past the top of my head. The branches were strong and climbable, perfect for sneaking out. I’d first tried to climb down from it when I was 15, though sneaking out was a learning process. When I’d first tried to sneak out, I ended up spraining my ankle in the process and I had to tell my mom I’d gotten in a bad accident during a soccer game. But now, I was an experienced soldier, and I knew this tree like the back of my hand.

I climbed down the tree with ease. My feet made a soft thud on the grass. I stood still, mid-crouch, ears waiting for Titan’s barking. Moments passed without any attacks from the beast. I knew I was safe, so I walked towards the grey brick wall separating me from the crucial evidence.

The neighbor’s backyard was completely empty, no swings or gardens or dog houses. I’d never known my neighbors, but what I did know was that they left on the weekends frequently, so I wasn’t worried about being found out. A few strides across the backyard and I had the wine in my hand. I held it up and let the moon shine against the pink glass. Half of the contents were still there. Cool, I could save that for Eren.

I climbed back into my own backyard and the second my feet hit the grass, a giddy yap erupted and I froze. Titan stared at me with his droopy eyes. He was panting, his tongue was hanging out, and his beady eyes were staring hungrily at my bare feet.

“Titan,” I warned, but he was already running towards me. He was trotting on his chubby legs and with every step he took, drool slid from his mouth to the ground. I wouldn’t have to water the grass this weekend. He was already on it.

Titan yipped again. He jumped up and made a dive for my feet. I quickly took a step back, and he landed face-first onto the grass. 

He just  _ate serious shit_ , but that didn't stop him. He wiggled towards my feet. The fucker was ruthless.

“Titan, stop!” I scolded, pushing him away with my foot. But this was a game to him, a game that involved trying to bite my toes off. I poked at his side and he rolled onto his back, nibbling at my foot.

“Okay, Titan, stop. Look, where's the cup?” He stopped his wriggling and let his head fall back so he could look at me. He had on a floppy frown, and he looked at me unblinkingly.

“What’d you do to the cup?” He didn’t flinch. His eyes were droopy and cute, but they were also filled with a deadly determination. Eren hated Titan, often calling him the “devil’s child.” And sometimes, when he called him that, his reasons weren’t all too ridiculous. Right now, I agreed with him.

“Fine,” I sighed, turning on my heel. “But you can forget about your treats.”

When I heard him grunt, I stopped walking. I turned around just in time to see him scamper off towards the bushes. _Of course_. The bushes were his spot, his secret lair. He loved to bury things behind them, including Eren’s socks and Connie’s infinite amount of cheap, leather bracelets. Of course he would hide the cup there.

After a few seconds of rustling, Titan was trotting towards me, the cup in his mouth. He skidded to a stop and dropped the cup in front of my feet. The top of the cup was all white and chewed up.

“Titan!” I shouted. He stared up at me expectantly and ignored my scolding tone. “I’m not gonna give you a treat for being a little shit!” With one last grunt, he turned and left to his sacred bushes.

Whatever. The cup would not be missed. Mom had about fifty other cups with the same design, but in a different shade of red or blue or purple or orange. I threw it in the recycling and went back to the tree.

Climbing back into my room was a bit more difficult because of the wine bottle, but not impossible. I was back in my room with no problem, and both of my ankles were perfectly fine this time. I wrapped the wine bottle in one of my old t-shirts and hid it in my closet behind a bunch of other discarded shirts and jeans.

Alright. All of the evidence was accounted for. I took a deep breath and closed the window. From the corner of my eye, I could see my phone beeping.

> Eren: _um ok_
> 
> Eren: _well im going to bed_
> 
> Eren: _night_
> 
> Eren: _oh and make sure to text sweet precious marco (;;_

Shut up, Eren.

He was right, though. I knew I should. Marco didn’t have my number, so it wasn’t like I could wait for him to text me. This move was up to me. And god was it nerve wracking.

I lied down and stared at the ceiling, letting the phone plop onto my chest. I didn’t feel the least bit tired. Sleeping was going to be difficult because of the events of today.

Was Marco awake? Was he staring at the ceiling, eyes unblinking, like I was, too?

The only reason I was awake was because of him. It was more than just remembering today. There were memories, and there was longing. I remembered how it felt to kiss him, and I longed to do it again, no interruptions or threats to have me pulling away too soon. I remembered how he felt under my fingers, how his fingers felt on the back of my neck, and I longed to touch him and to be touched by him. I remembered how cute he looked when his freckles were flushed in embarrassment. I remembered how squinty his eyes got when he laughed. But remembering wasn’t enough. And so I was left with this feeling of wanting, wanting to see him again and do everything in my power to keep seeing him, again and again. More importantly, I wanted to know that he felt the same way. I wanted to know that he was up, restless, because of me and longing for me.

Fuck. If I kept this up, I’d have a boner from the sentiment alone.

I hid my face behind my hands and groaned. Snap out of it! I had to do it. I had to fucking text him. Before I could change my mind, I pulled up his contact information and sent him a message. My finger moved rapidly, but I also made sure that there were no spelling errors or silly mistakes.

I sent him a text.

> Me: _hey its jean_

For some reason, I felt really stupid. I thought, ‘ _Ugh, what a stupid text to send!_ ’ I knew it was fine, but I still felt like an idiot, and wondered if I could make up for it by sending a second text. Thankfully, Marco gave me no time to further embarrass myself.

> Marco: _hey! (:_
> 
> Me: _got home okay?_
> 
> Marco: _yep! Thanks for asking!_
> 
> Me: _(: i just got back getting our wine back_
> 
> Jean: _OMG that’s right! Im sososososo sorry! I just panicked ;-;_
> 
> Me: _haha its fine! It all ended up fine_
> 
> Me: _but Titan did end up chewing your cup_
> 
> Me: _little shit_
> 
> Marco: _aww don’t be so hard on him_
> 
> Me: _fuck no he deserves it_
> 
> Marco: _no no he’s too precious!_
> 
> Marco: _btw, can I tell you something?_

There it was. The dreaded text. No man who saw that text came out a happy man. I should have chosen that time to run, possibly to the bathroom to ‘accidently’ drop my phone in the toilet. Then he couldn’t tell me the bad news, whatever it was. I was already feeling defeated, though, so I simply sighed and texted him back.

> Me: _sure_
> 
> Marco: _I just wanted to say that thanks so much for everything! I had a really good time tonight_
> 
> Marco: _I had a really good time with you ///_
> 
> Marco: _and I wanna have more good times like that_
> 
> Marco: _with you ///_
> 
> Marco: _which is why I asked you out!! To the movies!!_
> 
> Marco: _agh him sorry im even an idiot over text >.<//_

Were the slashes… were those blush marks?

Fuck, that’s adorable. I had to use every fiber of my being to resist the urge of letting him know just how cute he was being.

> Me: _haha you’re not an idiot_
> 
> Me: _and I had a really good time (with you) too_
> 
> Me: _while we’re talking about the movie, what do you wanna watch?_
> 
> Marco: _ahh its up to me?_
> 
> Me: _yep so don’t fuck it up_
> 
> Marco: _;A; umm theres this Disney movie, unless its too childish_

I actually had been wanting to see that movie since the week it came out, but thought it was too childish to mention to Eren.

> Me: _sounds great and not childish at all_
> 
> Marco: _great! How does 6:20 sound_
> 
> Me: _sounds good_
> 
> Marco: _good! It’s a date!_
> 
> Marco: _well im gonna sleep_
> 
> Marco: _good night jean!_
> 
> Me: _night_

I let my phone flop to my chest again. My lips pulled into a small smile.

A date. God, I could not _wait_ for Friday.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturdays were not for waking up early. They were for sleeping in and slacking off. Saturdays were guilt free. No matter how late you woke up, how late you stayed up, and how little you did, you were not to feel guilty about it, because it was Saturday. So you could imagine my discontent when I woke up to an annoying buzzing against my ear.

I groaned. My eyes were burning from not having gotten enough sleep. My phone’s touchscreen was stuck to the side of my face. I assumed it was around 8 am, but the numbers on my phone’s lock screen read ‘6:55 a.m.’. Literally what the fuck.

I slapped my forearm across my eyes and groaned again. Who the fuck was texting me at 7 am? Was it Eren? I’ll fucking shit right in his face, I swear. Or, maybe it was Connie? Whoever it was texting me, I was automatically pissed at them for making me wake up early on a Saturday morning.

> Marco: good morning!! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Oh. Well in that case, never mind.

> Me: marco why tf are u texting me at fuckin 7am in the morning
> 
> Me: also good morning
> 
> Marco: ahhh did I wake you??
> 
> Me: yeah but its fine
> 
> Marco: im sorry!!! ;_;’’
> 
> Marco: I have to baby sit some kids today so that’s why im up so early
> 
> Me: ew children
> 
> Marco: oh shush theyre very adorable
> 
> Marco: do you have a snapchat?? I can just send you snaps while you sleep
> 
> Me: actually yeah its jeanyo
> 
> Marco: ok mines marcopolo uvu
> 
> Me: of course it is
> 
> Marco: go back to sleep!!

I switched my phone to ‘silent’ and placed it on my dresser. The interaction with Marco should have had me all excited and giddy and stupid, but I was too tired to freak out just then. Instead, when my head hit the pillow, I zonked out immediately.

I woke up five hours later, an appropriate time to be waking up on a Saturday morning.

Mom was sitting on the couch, folding clothes, when I entered the living room. I gave her a groggy ‘good morning’ as I shuffled my feet to the kitchen. Waiting for me in the microwave was a plate of pancakes wrapped in plastic. I poked the top. Still warm. I removed the plastic, added honey, grabbed a glass of milk, and plopped down on the couch.

I ate in silence for a few minutes, but I could feel my mom eyeing me. Just by the way she was sitting, by her humming and the way she was folding the clothes, I could tell she was plotting something. She wanted to ask me something, but she was waiting for the right time.

I wasn’t in trouble. I could tell that much. When I was in trouble, there were two paths she took. She either decided to sit me down and have a serious talk with me, or she would burst into the room and shout, “Jean Kirstein, just what do you think you are doing?!” Something along those lines.

Mom wasn’t scary when she was angry. She was scary when she was sad.

“Jean,” she finally spoke up. She kept folding clothes, talking casually. “Was the baby sitter a friend of yours?”

Shit. Right, okay. This is what I’ve been training for.

“No,” I responded, mouth still full of pancakes. I swallowed and continued, “No, it just turns out I have him for a class.” No hint of lying in my voice, even though I was technically being truthful. I took another bite of my pancakes.

“Do you like him?”

I could have choked.

I slowed my chewing and swallowed very _carefully_.

“He’s better than Anna.” Mom laughed at that, and placed the towel she was folding on her lap.

“Okay, okay,” she said. Her laughter faded, and she cleared her throat. I turned to face her completely. “I was just thinking… I know you don’t like having a baby sitter…”

“I’m eighteen years old.”

“I know, yes, you _are_ all grown up.” She looked a little sad admitting it. I prepared myself for the possibility of tears and hugging.

“But, I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone at night. So, I figured, if you had a baby sitter more your _age_ , it wouldn’t be too bad!”

Oh, mom, you don’t know how wrong you are. Having a baby sitter at age eighteen was already bad enough, but forcing some kid to hang out with another and call it babysitting? I’m not sure if that was worse than having one of my mom’s friends pinch my cheeks every time they came over to baby sit. It was a stroke of luck that Marco ended up having a crush on me, because if it had been anyone else, it would’ve ended badly.

Anyways, I didn’t _need_ a baby sitter at _all_ , but whatever. More excuses to see Marco.

“Why don’t you just let me invite Connie or Eren over when you leave?”

Mom was folding a shirt when I asked this. She dropped it on her lap, on top of the towel she’d placed there, and stared straight into my eyes.

In the most serious tone, she said, “I don’t trust those boys.”

I laughed incredulously. “You don’t _trust_ my _friends?_ ”

“Jean, show me your arm.”

I pouted. Fair enough.

“Besides, Marco is so sweet and responsible!” she said. She sounded so _approving_ , too, which sort of pleased me. It was nice to know she liked my future boyfriend. If I was to tell her, it’d make things a lot easier.

“Mom, it sounds like you’re setting me up on a date,” I joked. The joke was funnier to me, and it’d be funnier to Marco when I tell him.

She chuckled. “He’s just the kind of guy that I wish your friends were more like.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. I finally understood what she was thinking. She _was_ sort of setting me up on a date, but like, a _friend date_. She was a teacher, and she was pairing me, the problematic student, with Marco, the perfect, smart kid, in hopes of Marco rubbing off on me. She had gone to a supermarket and chose Marco, thinking, ‘Yes, this is the friend Jean needs. Sweet, kind, responsible, and one-hundred percent perfect! _This_ is the kind of friend I want Jean to have. Perfect.’

She was literally choosing a friend for me. You can’t do that! Holy shit, that is so messed up. Just wait until you find out I’m sucking his dick!

Well, I’m not sucking it yet. But I will! _Oh I will._

I angrily ate my pancakes and watched TV in silence. Two episodes were done when I suddenly remembered my phone, and Marco’s snapchats.

I wondered if he would care if I screenshotted anything.

I paused the episode and jogged upstairs. My mom called out, “Be careful, dear!” but I was too busy avoiding all the discarded clothing on my floor to hear her. The small light on my phone was flashing. I swiped it from my dresser and clicked it on.

Nine new snapchats, and one new text. I found myself stupidly excited as I raced downstairs. I threw myself onto the couch and messed up some of the clothes in the process.

“Jean!”

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized and straightened out the pile of clothes. But my mind was on my phone, and thus my heart was not in the laundry.

I opened the snaps first.

The very first snapchat was one of Marco. He was in his car, seatbelt on and everything, and the sun was shining in his face. He was grinning, hand in a peace sign, and he’d drawn pink lines on his cheeks. The caption read, “Morning!”

I lifted my thumb to stop the next snap from loading. There were butterflies in my stomach.

Marco was too powerful. Too cute, too powerful.

The next few snaps where that of the kids he was babysitting. But the last snap, the last snap was important.

It was a video, and I had to fumble to put the audio up to hear it. I missed one second of it because of that, but no matter. The video was of a little girl, red hair in messy pig tails, green goop all over her chin. She was grinning wildly, showing off her tiny teeth.

“Say Marco,” Marco said, his voice filled with laughter.

“Polo,” the girl responded playfully. I smiled. She _was_ cute, despite the green goop and the fact that she was probably some sort of spawn of satan. All children were.

“Marco!”

“Polo!”

“Why won’t you call me Marco?” Marco whined, and the girl was about to say ‘polo’ again when the video cut off.

Marco was too precious for me. I was smiling at a video of a small child, all because of Marco.

I completely forgot that my mom was sitting right next to me, the only thing separating the two of us being the laundry. I turned my head slowly to her. She was grinning.

“Was that Marco?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. She was so damn proud of herself.

I’m gonna suck his dick. Gonna suck it right off.

I erased the awful thought from my head. Jesus, I needed to _chill._

I remembered the text message. I opened that next.

> Eren: hey hey lets hang out. Bp w connie and sasha B)
> 
> Me: my house?
> 
> Eren: yeah but put Titan away in like ur closet or smthn
> 
> Me: haha no  
>   
>  Eren: fine :/ ill tell connie and sasha

“Mom, Eren and Connie and Sasha are coming over.” I paused and looked at her. “Unless you don’t think they’re _sweet_ and _responsible_ enough to hang out with me.”

She laughed. “Honey, you know I can’t pick your friends!”

I swear to fuck.

 

Eren was here at around eight, stating that Connie and Sasha wouldn’t be here for another hour or so. Mikasa had dropped him off, and she’d driven off before I could even say hi. This was good news to Eren.

“You’ve got Marco now,” he said, shooing me with his hands. “So stay away from my sister.”

“What? I just want to be friends.” I said this so innocently that Eren suspected something.

He glared at me, his eyes boring into my soul. The look he was giving me made me break into a smile.

“…With benefits.”

That received a swift blow on my arm. “Stop talking about my sister like that!”

I didn’t mean any of it. Honest, I was over Mikasa. It was just hilarious seeing Eren react that way.

We went to the backyard, and Eren was immediately welcomed by Titan. He scurried towards him and, as usual, aimed straight for Eren’s shoes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Eren shouted as he shook his foot. Titan had a nice grip on his laces. “Jean, put him away!”

“No can do,” I said, walking to the back. “Give him treats or something.”

“I’m not gonna give him a treat for being a jackass!” Titan yipped angrily at the remark. “I fucking hate you. I will _annihilate_ you.”

Titan and Eren had been natural enemies since I first introduced them to each other. Titan was an adorable little ball of fat and fur to everyone else, but to Eren, he was a devil. He was mischievous and chaotic, and loved to torture Eren. When Eren reached his hand out to pet him, Titan leaped out of my arms and bit him. Not on the finger, or the hand, but on his arm. And he would not let go, not even when Eren pulled his arm away.

It was frightening, yeah. The first time, anyways. After that, I sort of got used to the hatred between the two.

“Titan,” I called out to him. I figured Eren had gotten enough torture from Titan, for now. “Come here, boy!”

Titan backed away from Eren’s shoes to look at me. He panted happily and blinked at me. Before scrambling over to me, he bit at Eren’s ankle and scurried away.

“Ow! Fucking shit stain!”

I turned on the backyard’s light and we set up game under that, arranging generic red cups into two pyramids. When Eren asked what we’d be drinking, I grinned evilly. I’d actually forgotten about the wine.

“Stand under the window to my room.”

“Wait, why?”

“Just do it, Eren.”

I hurried inside. Mom was making some of those mini hamburgers she knows Sasha loves. I went up to my room and to my closet, digging past my old clothes and shoes to the bundled-up wine bottle. I ripped the clothes off as if I was undressing a beautiful woman with the figure of a wine bottle. Held carefully in my hands was the pink bottle, gleaming up at me. Ah, Eren was gonna shit himself.

I slid my window open and crawled out of it. I crawled to the very edge of the roof, laying on my stomach, and peeped my head over the edge. I could see Eren. He was already fighting with Titan, who was chewing on the back of his pant leg.

“Eren!” I hissed loudly, and his head snapped up so he could see me. I held out the wine bottle for him to see. “Catch!”

I let it drop before he could question me. He caught it just before it hit him in the head. Shit, that would’ve been bad.

He examined the bottle then looked back up at me with an amazed look on his face. I smiled proudly. “Dude. No way.”

“I’m coming down,” I called out to him, then crawled back into my room. I went back outside, snagging the cherry soda I’d bought earlier. I’d been drinking it all day, so it was practically gone.

“Is this the wine you took yesterday?” Eren asked when I joined him.

“Yeah, put it on the grass so my mom doesn’t see you flailing it around. Seriously, it’s just wine.” He was holding it up like a trophy, and I could tell he wanted to take a swig from it. But we barely had enough for a game, and we’d have to fill in some gaps with soda.

Eren finished the last of the soda, then we filled the soda bottle with the remaining contents of the wine and I disposed of the wine bottle. Farewell, sweet maiden.

Eren started asking me questions about yesterday, and I answered truthfully.

“How far did you get?”

“Just kissing.”

“Was there tongue?”

“A bit.”

“Are you gonna see him again?”

“We’re going out on Friday.”

“Is he a virgin like you?”

“I don’t know- wait, I’m not a virgin.”

“Seventh grade hand jobs don’t count.”

“I did _not_ give anyone a fucking hand job in the seventh grade. Holy shit, who started that rumor?”

The hour rolled by and Sasha and Connie arrived. We wouldn’t have noticed them walk in if it wasn’t for Sasha.

“YOOOOOOOOO!” Sasha shouted her greeting. Connie was right behind her, a half grin on his face. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Ready to lose?” Eren asked, smirking. Sasha threw her head back and laughed.

“Okay, _Jaeger_. You wish!”

A competitive air sparked between the two, as always. Sasha had the right to brag, though. Out of the four of us, she was the best beer pong player, and anyone paired up with her was usually guaranteed a win. Since she and Connie were dating, it was pretty much obvious how teams were paired up. It was only when she and Connie had a fight to settle that she paired up with either me or Eren, and the game ended up turning into a game between them two instead of a game between two teams.

Connie grabbed the soda bottle on the middle of the table and picked it up. He examined it closely, swishing the contents around.

“Why isn’t it fizzy?” he asked. He started to uncap the bottle and neared the bottle to his nose.

“Its wine,” I told him, before he could figure it out. He took a sniff at the contents anyways, and looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Wine? Where’d you get wine?”

This is where Eren jumped in, with a huge grin on his face. He wasn’t going to let me get a word in, so I just let him have his time to shine. I was just so giving. First wine, then this? A plus friend, Jean Kirstein.

“He got the wine from his mom’s booze stash.”

Sasha half-gasped, half-laughed. Amazing how she could do that. “ _Your_ mom has a _booze stash_?”

I wish I could say I was as shocked as she was when I found out, but I was too busy trying to get in Marco’s pants to comprehend my discovery.

“When’d this happen?” Connie asked.

“Yesterday,” both Eren and I replied.

“Wait,” Sasha said. She looked like she’d just connected something, added two plus two. She pointed at me suspiciously. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yes, Sasha.”

“I delivered pizza to you… and Marco was here. You and Marco…”

Eren snatched the bottle from Connie’s hands and held it up. He wriggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Sasha’s eyes went from him, to me, from the bottle, to me.

“ _You and Marco_?!” she repeated, but with a lot more enthusiasm. Her eyes were wide, her smile wider, and she gasped so hard that I thought she punctured a lung. Holy shit, how did Connie deal with her?

“Wait, you’re gay?” Connie asked.

“Bi,” both Eren and I said.

Sasha was hiding her face in her hands and crouching on the floor. She let her hands drop and peered up at us. “Who cares if he’s gay?!”

“Bi.”

“What matters is, _holy shit_ , this is so _cute!_ Tell me everything! Have you two kissed?”

I smiled. Even though she was being a little too… excited over it, I enjoyed her excitement. I liked that she was able to just burst out her emotions, without worrying about censoring herself. “We’ve kissed.”

“Ahhh!” she screamed. She stood up straight and threw her head backwards, slapping her face with her hands again. “ _Adorable!_ ”

“Whoa, wait, I’m barely finding out you’re ga- _bi_ , and you’ve already kissed the guy?”

“I know how you feel,” Eren sighed, patting Connie on the back.

“Look, can we just play?” I asked, snatching the soda bottle from Eren. “Seriously, the one time we’re gonna get to play with alcohol and you guys don’t care.”

“ _I_ care!” Eren said, and Connie and Sasha quickly piped in.

We started playing, but ten minutes into the game and the conversation was, again, about me and Marco.

Not that I’m complaining.

“We’re gonna go see a movie on Friday,” I said, and got a dreamy sigh as a response from Sasha.

Eren shot his ball and missed. Connie caught it and dipped it in water, then fiddled with it in his hands. “Wait. If you and Marco end up dating, then out of the four of us, Eren’s gonna be the only single one.”

Like zombies, we all turned to Eren. Eren glared at us, but his intense eyes did nothing to diminish our mocking smirks. Poor, poor nerd

“Hey, shut up! I’m… working on it.”

“Oh really?” I laughed, leaning my elbow against his shoulder. He quickly shrugged me off and stepped away from me. He was actually getting pissed, but I couldn’t help it. “Who?”

“Who? Oh, uh…” His eyes darted from each person. We were all waiting for him to spill the beans, though I knew it was just bullshit. He was trying to save face. “Krista.”

He was trying to save face, but he ended up just making things worse for himself.

“Krista?!” Connie shouted. He snickered and said, “Dude, you know she’s with Ymir, right?”

“She’s with Ymir?!” Eren shouted in disbelief.

“Dude, yeah,” Sasha said. “I mean, they’re not _exactly_ together, because Krista’s dad would freak out, but yeah, they’re basically together.”

“Are you kidding me? Is everyone fucking gay?”

“Maybe it’s your turn,” Connie said. “Hit on that dude that fixes your car.”

“Oh, hey, Levi’s hot,” I nodded. Even though he wore those disgusting, grease-covered overalls, he was still really attractive. He always had on such an intense look, eyes cold and hard, lips pursed around a toothpick. He would bunch up his overalls around his strong arms, which always managed to get covered in grease. He would lean against the car, push his hair back and sigh as he wondered what the fuck Eren managed to do with the car-

“No, wait, don’t hit on Levi, he’s way too hot for you," I said.

“Levi is _not_ too hot for me- look, fuck you guys, let’s just keep playing,” Eren grumbled. We all laughed over his grumpiness as we continued the game. It was Connie’s turn. Sasha had her arms around his waist, her chin rested on his shoulder. I knew he wasn’t gonna make the shot, but it was obvious he didn’t really mind. Connie was shorter than Sasha, but instead of that being the thing I’d poke fun at, it was actually sickeningly cute. _They_ were sickeningly cute.

The ball bounced off the cup and flew past Eren. He jogged after it, but right before he could reach it, Titan dove for it and captured it in his teeth.

“Titan, _no_ ,” Eren scolded, reaching to pry his mouth open.

“Eren, it’s fine,” I called out to him. I always bought extras. Honestly, I don’t think I had enough fingers to count how many balls Titan had captured as his own.

“Ugh!” he groaned, stomping back to me. “You know he’s only doing that to piss me off!”

“Eren, just go,” I said, slapping a ball in his hand. I stepped aside for him to take my spot. He fell silent and concentrated on the ball in his hand and the cups before him. I smiled to myself. Right before he was going to throw his ball forward, I stepped towards him and wrapped my arms around his waist like Sasha had to Connie. He jumped up and the ball flew from his hand. It bounced hard against the table.

“Jean!” Eren shouted above our laughter. He shoved himself away from me and shouted, “You made me miss my-“

The ball came back down from its bounce and fell straight into a cup. All of us fell silent.

“-shot.”

That was, unfortunately for him, the coolest Eren would get that night.


End file.
